The path continues on through the woods in a winding mess, the trees so thick that one cannot see the way they've come or the way ahead for more than a few yards. The man trapped in a boy's shell can run and run and run, but there seems to be no end in sight. Nothing can be heard in the crisp stillness of the forest save for the soft pat pat pat of snowfall.
On and on, he goes. Where it stops... nobody knows.
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On and on, he goes. Where it stops... nobody knows.